Scent Detection
Author
Leslie Marshman
Reads
15,4K
Chapters
19
Chapter One
The truck careened through the night, its driver hell-bent on his objective.
Angry blades of rain slashed across the windshield, cutting visibility to almost nothing. On this lonely stretch of State Highway 95 in Idaho’s northwest backcountry, landslides were frequent, streetlights rare. Only wicked forks of lightning, strobing every few seconds off the inky peaks of the Seven Devils Range, revealed the dangerous ledge where the pavement ended and the cliff’s steep drop began.
Another blinding flash illuminated a sharp curve up ahead. Exhausted, fueled only by caffeine and adrenaline, the driver’s grip tightened on the steering wheel. The truck hydroplaned, spinning across the rain-slick road before stopping on the asphalt’s edge. For several long seconds, the vehicle teetered at a precarious angle.
Thunder cracked and shook the ground. The truck’s nose dipped farther, held for a moment, then tumbled into the black abyss. Glancing off trees. Plowing over saplings, scrub and rocks. He jammed down on the brakes in a futile attempt to stop the frenzied descent.
Icy fingers of death reached for him, and his gut crawled into his throat as the truck continued its downhill plunge. His head smashed into the steering wheel before crashing against the side window. Once. Twice. After that he lost the ability to count. To see. To concentrate.
But not to feel pain.
The airbag deployed, ramming into his chest and face like a concrete wall. Air whooshed from his lungs. He fought to take a breath. His face throbbed; blood ran from his nose across his lips. And still, the truck pinballed down the hill, the seat belt digging a sharp groove into his shoulder and torso.
One last hard bump, another crack on the head and the truck came to a jarring halt. Steam hissed from a busted radiator. High-pitched ringing filled the inside of his head, inviting madness. Clouded by pain, he fought the mental chaos until one concept came into focus.
Danger. Must keep moving.
He fumbled to release the restraint cutting across his shoulders, then brushed away shattered windshield glass from his lap, his chest. A warm and sticky wetness streamed from his scalp, over his ear and down his neck. Crushed metal blocked his escape. He found a handle. It wouldn’t budge. He rammed his shoulder against the obstruction. Agonizing pain shot up his spine and exploded inside his skull.
Fighting waves of nausea, he continued to throw himself against it until the door gave way with the groan of a dying beast. He tumbled out, landed hard in the mud. Rocks cut his fingers. He groped like a blind man, grabbing small boulders and trees to pull himself up. His hands and feet slipped with each attempt. More ground-shaking thunder. More pain.
Lightning illuminated everything like the ominous sweep of a prison searchlight. Movement drew his gaze uphill. Something black and thick and powerful rolling toward him. Like a gelatinous demon, it consumed branches, rocks, small trees, everything in its path.
Mudslide.
The mix of dirt and rain formed a deadly flow, and he scrambled from its path of destruction. One foot got tangled in the muck and it tried to swallow him. He panicked. Pulled and pulled. With a sucking squelch, a bare foot broke free.
He fell away from the mud. White pain blinded him as he hit his head once more. After clambering to his knees, he crawled sideways from the slide. At a hideous screech of metal, he turned back to look. A flash of lightning spotlighted the flow of mud engulfing his truck and carrying it over a ledge he hadn’t known he was sitting on.
The close call paralyzed him.
The barrage of pain muddled his brain.
Keep moving. Hurry.
Clawing his way up the slope, he fought for every inch, lost traction, slid backward, pushed on. Punishing rain stung his face, but the cold eased the throbbing that raged inside his skull. He topped the hill, made it to the pavement. He stumbled like a drunkard down the middle of the road, wind lashing at him with no mercy. A stray tree branch struck him in the back. He fell forward, hands flailing, scraping his face on the pavement.
One breath. Two breaths.
Danger. Keep moving. Danger everywhere. Anywhere.
He lurched up, regained his footing, staggered back to the edge of the road. Fell again, this time sliding downhill. His exhausted body crumpled, landing in a water-filled culvert alongside the road.
One breath. Two breaths. Three.
Get up.
Keep moving.
Danger.
His muscles refused to cooperate. His eyelids refused to stay open. It was all he could do just to keep his head above the water sluicing through the natural ditch.
One breath. Two breaths...
Danger.
The strobing lights behind his eyes dimmed, the ringing in his ears dulled. His last thoughts before losing consciousness were to hurry, to keep moving.
But why?
DESPITE HAVING TO dodge broken branches and patches of mud, remnants from last night’s unprecedented storm, Marie Beaumont headed south from town on her normal early morning run. Since settling in Jasper five years ago, she’d honed her list of preferred routes for maximum safety, the only way to guarantee the most enjoyment from her favorite pastime. The metronome-like slap of her shoes on asphalt quieted troubled thoughts and lowered her ever-present anxiety. Even today, watching every step to avoid tripping, it was worth it.
The mountain breezes that flowed into the canyon never smelled fresher than after a summer storm. The temporary reprieve from August’s heat lifted Marie’s mood, even if the cloudless blue sky foretold the rising temperatures to come.
“More storms coming. Should help with the heat.” She glanced down at her running companion, who’d looked up at the sound of Marie’s voice. “Right, girl?”
Astrid, her Doberman-beagle mix, bounded alongside in a running version of “heel.” Trained at the DCA—Daniels Canine Academy—located on several acres just north of town, the brown-coated beauty rarely left Marie’s side. Despite having cause, Marie had vowed not to live her life in fear. However, cowardice and caution were two different things, and Astrid was as much guard dog as loving pet.
Rounding a bend in the road, Astrid froze, sniffing the air, her tail no longer wagging. Marie skidded to a standstill.
Astrid was in her alert, nonaggressive stance, but that could change in an instant if the situation warranted. “What is it, girl?”
Marie’s heart rate kicked up a notch as she surveyed the area. Other than butterflies flitting among the wildflowers and a breeze teasing the tall pines, nothing moved. Nothing unusual caught her eye. Still...
Astrid continued to stare at the far side of the road, whining.
“Search.” At Marie’s one-word command, Astrid tore across the asphalt and disappeared over the edge of the road, her progress marked by tall, swaying weeds and grasses.
Marie waited until insistent barking told her Astrid had found something. Pulling out her pepper spray, Marie inched toward the side of the pavement with caution. She peered over the road’s shoulder and gasped when she saw what had Astrid so worked up.
A man, covered in filth and blood, lay crosswise in a runoff ditch, his eyes closed.
As Astrid paced in agitated circles, Marie dropped all pretense of caution and scurried downhill, tossed her phone on the ground and slide into the wet muck beside the man. A large, well-muscled man, maybe early thirties, whose skin bore a whitish-blue tint that caused Marie’s stomach to churn. She reached for his neck, praying to find a pulse.
All hope evaporated the moment she touched him. Despair gripped her insides and twisted. His skin was cold. Deathly cold. And he hadn’t moved an inch, not even a slight rise and fall of his chest. With two fingers lightly pressing on the artery in his neck, Marie waited to feel the tell-tale pulsing of blood. Nothing.
“Come on, mister. Wake up!”
Astrid stopped her pacing, approached the man and licked his face.
In that moment, Marie felt a pulse.
He was alive.
She’d already had far too much contact with death, and Marie took a deep breath, grateful that today would not lay more at her feet. Then, she swung into motion.
Astrid wasn’t the only one with training, and Marie wasted no more time. As Jasper’s one and only veterinarian, she worked with both large and small animals and was no stranger to moving heavy, unresponsive patients. Something had dammed up the ditch farther down from their position, and the pooling water crept toward the man’s face.
Running muddy hands over his body, she checked him for broken bones. His head and neck were aligned, a good sign. Ribs okay. Arms and legs, check, check.
The water continued rising, lapping at his chin. Injured or not, she had to move him. She got behind him and shoved him to a seated position. Feeling along his spine, she found no obvious breaks or injuries.
Kneeling on the edge of the ditch, she hooked her elbows beneath his armpits and pulled with all her strength. He barely moved. She slid down behind him, braced her feet and wrapped her arms around his chest. She tugged. Her feet sank in the muck. She braced again, pulled again. She couldn’t get traction in the wet, muddy ground. He slid down even lower than before.
The water kept rising. His mouth would soon be covered. Then his nose. Overwhelmed by a strong certainty that she was meant to save this man, Marie called for Astrid. Pulling the shoulder of the man’s shirt up, away from his skin, she let Astrid grab it with her teeth.
“Pull, girl!” There would be no drowning on her watch.
She again looped her arms under his shoulders, and together she and Astrid hauled until his chest cleared the water. Grabbing his belt with both hands, Marie planted her feet and dragged his torso out of the culvert. Astrid took over belt duty to keep him from tumbling back into the water as Marie worked one of his legs up and over the edge.
She issued the pull command again. Gripping the belt tighter in her mouth, Astrid yanked. Marie hopped back down and put her shoulder into shoving the rest of the man up and over the lip of the ditch.
“Good job, Astrid.”
Marie climbed out of the culvert, sweaty, muddy, trying to catch her breath. Moving with speed, she rolled the man onto his back, confirmed his breathing passage remained clear, then checked his pulse again. Weak, but there. Unconscious, but still alive.
With hands shaking from exertion and the subsiding rush of adrenaline, Marie reached for her cell phone. Only 5 percent juice, but enough. With the power out during the storm, she should have remembered to check it before she left this morning. She dialed 911.
Astrid sniffed the stranger from head to foot, then sat back on her haunches.
Relieved help was now on the way, Marie sank to the ground next to the man and inspected his head wound. “Well, mister, it’s not deep, but it’s still going to need stitches.”
Astrid cocked her head to one side, as if questioning Marie’s professional opinion.
“Oh, hush. Just because I’m a vet and not a people doctor doesn’t mean I don’t know about cuts.”
Astrid woofed in reply.
“Really? You think you know better? Listen here, a cut’s a cut, no matter how many legs the patient has.”
A contrite Astrid came up to her, placed one paw on Marie’s arm and slobbered a kiss on her chin.
“Yes, baby. I know. I love you, too.” Marie scratched behind the dog’s ears.
Astrid settled down, and Marie’s attention returned to the man. Her gaze moved from his ripped polo shirt to his mud-soaked jeans, then down to his feet, one wearing only a sock, the other completely bare. “How the heck did you wind up in this situation?”
She looked around but didn’t spot a vehicle. She frowned at Astrid. “A hiker?” Astrid tilted her head. “Okay, you’re right. Not dressed for it. A tourist maybe?”
Astrid had no response to that question, and no wonder. Marie steered clear of strangers. Other than the few people in Jasper she did know, most thought her standoffish. Someone with trust issues, she’d heard whispered, which she supposed was true, although that wasn’t why she avoided strangers. Not by a long shot.
She gave a mental shrug. Whatever people thought about her, she was not the kind of woman who could let this guy, or anyone for that matter, drown in a ditch.
Smoothing back his dirty brown hair, she studied his face, as if by looking at him she could tell what kind of character he had. “Once the blood and mud are washed off, I have a feeling you’ll clean up good.” She twisted her lips, amused at her train of thought. “Not that I care about that, mind you. What I really care about is, are you a good person?” She continued to caress his forehead with the same gentleness she used on injured and abandoned animals.
It didn’t surprise her that what drew her most to this man was the helplessness of his situation. Imagine being discovered alone, unconscious and nearly drowned in a water-filled ditch smack-dab in the middle of Nowhere, Idaho. Whatever had befallen him, his plight reeked of the loneliness Marie lived with every day.
His eyelids fluttered open, and just that fast Marie’s empathy vanished as her instinctual wariness reared up. Gray eyes met hers with an eerie intensity that seemed to reach for her darkest secrets. That gaze, somehow so knowing, punched an icy blast of foreboding through Marie’s chest and froze the breath in her lungs.
A second later, Astrid jumped up as the distant wail of an ambulance siren grew louder. The man’s eyes drifted closed, and Marie breathed a sigh of relief. What a strange, unnerving moment that had been.
“Stay,” she told Astrid before dashing up the incline to wave down the EMTs.
The ambulance stopped and two paramedics jumped out, one smiling when he saw her. “Hey, Doc. Didn’t know you were the one who called this in. What can you tell me about our John Doe?”
Marie knew Eddie, which calmed her jangled nerves even more. She relayed to both paramedics what she knew, which wasn’t much, and within minutes the patient was triaged, stabilized and loaded in the ambulance.
“You riding in with us?” Eddie asked her, eyeing her soaking-wet, mud-splattered jogging gear.
Marie looked down. “Oh, wow. I’m quite a mess, aren’t I?”
“The uniform of heroes if you ask me. Besides, we have towels for just such emergencies.”
Marie patted Astrid’s head. “Can my muddy companion come, too?”
Eddie’s smile broadened. “You think I’d leave Killer’s sweetheart behind? Muddy or not?” He opened both passenger doors of the ambulance’s four-door cab. “Even have a harness she can use.”
Eddie’s Chihuahua, Killer, was a patient of Marie’s, and the pint-sized pooch had developed a mastiff-sized crush on Astrid. Marie and Eddie always shared a good laugh whenever the two dogs were together, joking that Killer would need a ladder to take the relationship any further.
Marie got Astrid buckled into the backseat, then climbed in to ride shotgun. Definitely one of the perks of small-town living.
Lights flashing, siren screaming, they sped up the road to Jasper Memorial. During the short ride, Eddie, bless him, rambled on about this and that, oblivious to Marie’s noncommittal murmurs and nods. Her focus was squarely centered on the man in the back, no doubt getting hooked up to an IV and being covered in a heat-generating blanket.
She had no reason to fear the stranger. Anyone could have found him. It was just coincidence that she and Astrid happened to. But coincidence was simply not something that existed in Marie’s world, and she couldn’t stop herself from imagining the countless ways her Good Samaritan act today might come back to haunt her.
Borrowing trouble, her grandmother had called it.
As much as she hated what it might mean to her well-ordered life, it was time to call George Murphy.
THE HOSPITAL ADMISSIONS nurse tapped a tuneless beat with her pen against the desk. “You must have some relationship with the patient. You rode in the ambulance with him.”
Marie summoned her patience. “I promise you, I don’t have a relationship with him. I found him on the side of the road and called 911. I’m happy to give you my contact information, but I don’t know the man from Adam.” She handed the nurse her driver’s license. “As long as you’re adding me as a contact, would it be possible to keep me informed of his status?”
Until she spoke to George, the most important thing would be keeping an eye on the mystery man. Her safety might depend on it, after all. And as a caring person, of course Marie was concerned about his medical status. She always followed up on her patients. Even the tall, handsome one with gray eyes whose life she saved.
The admissions nurse lifted her gaze from her computer screen and gave Marie a somewhat disapproving look, then handed her license back. “Unless the patient gives us permission, we can’t release his medical information. But no doubt the police will want you to stick around. They’ll need a statement, I would imagine. Maybe they could check with his doctor for you.”
“Thank you.”
Marie found a chair in the corner of the waiting room where Astrid would be less noticeable. When they had trailed through the ER door behind Eddie, the nurse began scolding her for bringing a dog into the hospital. Eddie had simply said, “Service dog,” on his way past the desk and that seemed to mollify her. While it was true that Astrid was a sort of service dog, Marie felt more comfortable keeping a low profile.
Her phone battery was down to 2 percent. Before it went dead, she checked her messages. None. Pretty typical unless there was an animal emergency. Then she dashed off a quick text to Liz, Marie’s office manager, letting her know she’d be late getting in to the office, deciding last-minute that the why-she-was-going-to-be-late explanation was too much for a text. She’d just pushed Send when Officer Jason Wright of the Jasper PD strolled up to her.
With cropped black hair, dark brown eyes and a charming smile, the six-foot, muscular rookie officer was engaged to Tashya, the vet tech employed at the Daniels Canine Academy. Which meant Marie saw him often and knew him better than most of the local cops.
“Hi, Jason. I was hoping they’d send you.”
He favored her with a sly grin. “Why? ’Cause you like my biceps?” He curled his arm and gave her a flex.
Marie couldn’t help it. She grinned back. Extending her arms, placing her wrists together as if in handcuffs, she said, “You busted me. Just promise you won’t tell Tashya.” For the first time since finding John Doe, Marie felt a measure of calm. Jason had that way about him, a way of brightening a room and easing tension just by being in it.
“I make no promises. Tashya can always tell when I’m lying, so I find it best not to do it.”
Wouldn’t that be nice. A stab of jealousy pierced Marie. What would it be like to live in a world not consumed by lies?
Jason pulled a small notebook and pen from his pocket. “So, you found our John Doe, huh?”
Nodding, she filled him in on the particulars. He asked a few additional questions, which she answered while he jotted down notes, then he snapped the notebook closed and pocketed it. “That’s one lucky dude, if you ask me. Hey, listen, if I have any follow-up questions, I’ll just call you, okay?”
“Sure thing.”
“You heading home? Need a lift?”
“Thanks, but I think I’ll wait here a bit longer. I want to make sure he’s okay.”
“You might want to rethink that,” Jason said with a knowing wink, giving her an up-and-down once-over. “You look a bit like the Creature from the Black Lagoon.”
Marie chortled when she glanced down at herself. “What? Is soggy and mud splattered not my best look?”
“Well...”
“Don’t answer that. Wouldn’t want you lying.”
“Whew!” He laughed with her, and then said, “Look, I’m not planning to stick around much longer, but if he wakes up before I leave, I’ll let you know.”
“Thanks, Jason.” She watched him walk away. When he and Tashya tied the knot in a couple of weeks, they would be one of the lucky couples who makes it. Love like theirs gave others in town hope for their own eventual happily-ever-after.
She scoffed.
Not you, Marie. Get a grip.
She probably should leave, grab a shower, forget all about John Doe.
But she wouldn’t. Not yet, anyway. She couldn’t ignore that look he’d given her, and how it had stirred something within her. Curiosity, certainly. Caution, that was a given. Maybe even a touch of fear. But there was more, something akin to desire, and that was absolutely a path she couldn’t afford to go down.
So instead, she worked to convince herself this was just her normal MO. Since early childhood, she’d felt a calling to take in wounded animals and nurse them back to health. And that’s what this man reminded her of. A wounded stray who needed her. Well, maybe not her, but someone.
“Dr. Beaumont?”
Startled, Marie looked up at a nurse in scrubs. “Yes?”
“The patient is waking up. Officer Wright and Dr. Saul wondered if you’d join them in the ER.”
“Okay if Astrid comes with me?” She grabbed hold of the harness.
“Absolutely. Dr. Saul happens to be a big believer in the power of four-legged companionship.” Yet another perk of small-town life.
With Astrid at her side, Marie followed the nurse through the hands-free doors of the ER.
The man at the center of her consternation lay propped against several pillows, his bed partially elevated. He was hooked to an IV bag, a bandage covered the side of his head and most of the mud had been cleaned from his face.
Marie almost sighed in delight. John Doe most definitely cleaned up good. Maybe too good. She stepped closer to his hospital bed, taking in his five-o’clock stubble that gave him an outdoorsy look. Wispy, abstract streaks of white filled the irises of his gray eyes, pulling her in like a black hole in space. She took a deep breath, then exhaled to try to slow her pulse.
His brows pinched into a frown above an unsmiling mouth. Hardly the reaction she expected. Could be as simple as him noticing her less-than-tidy appearance. Or perhaps he was sizing her up, as she had done him. Hmm. Just so long as his penetrating stare didn’t hide anything more sinister.
Dr. Saul looked up from his clipboard. “Ah, here she is.” Wearing a white coat over green scrubs and with a stethoscope dangling around his neck, he was average height, bald and bespectacled. Possibly in his sixties, but Marie never had been good at guessing ages.
The doctor tucked his clipboard to his chest and spoke to the patient. “Do you mind me discussing your medical condition in front of this woman? I was hoping she might help fill in the blanks, as it were, since she was the one who fished you out of a water-filled ditch this morning. According to Officer Wright here, you would have drowned if not for her.”
The man, whose name she still didn’t know, said nothing. Only gazed at her with the same disturbing intensity as he had on the side of the road. Finally, Marie grew warm with discomfort.
“Glad to see you’re awake. And I don’t deserve all the credit. I had a little help this morning.” She looked down at Astrid and gave her a pat.
“Sorry, I don’t remember.” His eyes lingered on her face. “Apparently, I don’t even remember me.”
Dr. Saul rested a sympathetic hand on the man’s shoulder. “Our patient is suffering from retrograde amnesia, or the loss of existing and previously made memories. This type of amnesia tends to affect recently formed memories first. Then, if the condition persists, it affects older memories, such as those from childhood. I’m working on transferring him to St. Luke’s Hospital in Boise to see a neurologist there who specializes in this sort of thing.”
The man with no name continued to stare at Marie, as if paying no attention to the doctor’s words. You’d think someone facing such a diagnosis would be more interested in what the doctor was saying than in puzzling out her role in things.
“Seems he can’t remember anything before waking up in the ER,” Dr. Saul went on. “Not his identity, not how he came to be out in the storm, not even how he received his wounds. And as he said, he doesn’t remember being rescued, either.”
“He didn’t have any ID in his pockets, but he was wearing this.” Jason held up a man’s watch. “The back is engraved with the name Jack.”
“Then I guess we’ll call you Jack.” Marie smiled and held out her hand toward him. “I’m Marie.”
He returned her smile, but it seemed like an automatic response rather than anything genuine. “Nice to meet you, Marie.” Jack clasped her hand and held on to it longer than necessary. His touch, warm and strong, sent a pang of loss through her. It had been a long time since she’d experienced a man’s touch. Then she raised her chin and shoved the foolish sentiment away. She’d made her own decisions. No point wishing for what she couldn’t have.
“Thank you for saving my life.” His smile faded, replaced by another disconcerting frown.
Tipping his bandaged head to one side, he studied her face as if trying to piece together a puzzle. But his next words left Marie reeling.
“Didn’t you used to be a blonde?”
